


don't talk to me

by zxrysky



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, it's a bit like ten things i hate about you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Iwaizumi sees the Great King in person is when he strolls in through the gym doors, throngs of girls screaming and yelling his name as he grins and flashes a peace sign at the coach.</p><p>Oikawa Tooru is fifteen minutes late to practice.</p><p>Iwaizumi instantly hates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't talk to me

**Author's Note:**

> for a friend, who helped to craft this idea with me

The first time Iwaizumi sees the Great King in person is when he strolls in through the gym doors, throngs of girls screaming and yelling his name as he grins and flashes a peace sign at the coach.

 

Oikawa Tooru is fifteen minutes late to practice.

 

Iwaizumi instantly  _ hates _ him. It’s unexplainable; Iwaizumi can’t put into words the intense swirling thunderstorm of emotion within his chest. He’s never really harboured any intense hatred towards anyone on sight, but this one boy, he knows why he hates him.

 

Just seeing Oikawa Tooru with his stupid hair and stupid smile, however, makes him want to puke. It makes him want to wrap Oikawa Tooru up and stuff him in a locker and keep him there. It makes Iwaizumi want to  _ shut him up _ .

 

Oikawa smiles at him, grin slow and sharp, the glint of teeth.

 

Iwaizumi seethes.

 

The hatred is mutual.

 

-+-

 

Iwaizumi can respect Oikawa’s dedication to volleyball. He’s seen the boy train after hours, setting and serving and setting to no one, practicing and practicing until his aim is flawless and his arms are shaking and his sweat mixes with his tears.

 

Oikawa is dedicated to volleyball in a way many volleyball players aren’t. He’s signed his life to this game, and Iwaizumi understands that. Respects it, even. Iwaizumi’s as volleyball crazy as Oikawa is. He understands the sentiment.

 

But just because Iwaizumi  _ respects _ Oikawa, doesn’t mean he  _ likes _ Oikawa. It’s the opposite. Entirely opposite. Iwaizumi has an alphabetical list of Oikawa’s faults. It’s pinned up in his room. He adds a couple every day. 

 

The one thing on his list that’s been underlined multiple times, has three angry exclamation marks written next to it, and circled at least twice, is Oikawa’s smile. Just thinking about it makes Iwaizumi fume.

 

Oikawa is the exact opposite of Iwaizumi, in that sense. Iwaizumi’s stoic, he doesn’t really talk much to people he doesn’t know, and his smile is saved for close friends only. If he says something, he says it straightforwardly. Iwaizumi doesn’t believe in sugarcoating, doesn’t believe in sucking up, doesn’t believe in telling white lies just to make someone feel better. 

 

And that’s where Oikawa’s smile comes into play. Oikawa’s smile is so fake it makes Iwaizumi want to hurl. He smiles and laughs and preens in front of the girls he leads to the gym, and doesn’t do anything when said girls disrupt practice with the way they fall over themselves to love him. Oikawa’s smile is perfected to no end, the lips curling up in a way that looks entirely natural, soft and pretty and bright, his eyes shining.

 

It looks fake. And Iwaizumi can’t stand it, can’t take it, can’t stomach it, because he’s seen what Oikawa’s smile looks like. He’s seen it in pictures, in photo frames, memories frozen in time and placed on the countertop in oak bindings. He’s talked to the boy on the phone, knows his laugh the way his favourite song is stuck in his head. He’s run around with the boy in his yard, trying to find signs of alien activity.

 

He may not have known the Great King very well, but he sure as hell knows Oikawa Tooru. 

 

Not Oikawa Tooru, genius setter of Aobajousai. The person Iwaizumi knows is the son of his mother’s best friend, Oikawa the alien fanatic who’s obsessed with volleyball and a bit too careless for his mother’s liking. Oikawa, Iwaizumi’s friend over the phone. Oikawa, the best friend living in the house next door.

 

He  _ hates _ this boy he doesn’t recognise.

 

-+-

 

“ _ Iwa-chan _ ,” Oikawa calls out, the name familiar and rolling off his tongue like melted chocolate. It sends chills down Iwaizumi’s spine. There’s something malignant in that tone, both he and Oikawa know it. “You seem angry. Those lines in your face are going to stay there for a long,  _ long _ time, you know? You’re never going to get a girlfriend.”

 

“Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi snarls. “Shut up and get back to practice. Stop disturbing others. And take those girls out. They’re distracting everyone else.”

 

“Oh, Iwa-chan. Giving out orders, when the seniors and coach are right there? You’re not the highest in the ranking here; in fact, you’re  _ far from it _ .” Oikawa smiles, eyes glittering like opals. He’s baring his teeth, lips curled just far back to show his pearly whites. “You don’t know your place.”

 

“And you do?” Iwaizumi fires back. “You bringing in these girls disrupts practice, makes coach angry at you, makes the seniors angry at you; they’re going to shout at you in front of all these girls. In fact,  _ don’t _ tell the girls to leave. Let the seniors shout at you. Let them ruin your reputation. Let them know that Oikawa Tooru just wants attention.” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at Oikawa, and smirks at the setter’s slightly red face.

 

His smirk grows when Oikawa saunters away with fingers shaking as they grip the volleyball, and Iwaizumi takes great pleasure in watching Oikawa persuade the girls to leave, the setter’s eyes locking with Iwaizumi’s every now and then.

 

When it’s time to practice spiking, though, Oikawa throws the ball just a little off for Iwaizumi. It only happens once or twice in ten times, but it’s enough to throw Iwaizumi off his game. It’s always embarrassing when he misses his shots, because the throws are always too low, too high, too much to the right, too much to the left, and Oikawa buffs his nails on his shirt while looking away, lips twitching.

 

“Oh Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purrs after another failed attempt at spiking. “Having some trouble?”

 

“The only trouble I have is with your face,” Iwaizumi mutters back, stretching his arm to warm up before the next spike.

 

“How childish,” Oikawa says. “Iwa-chan’s like a toddler.”

 

It takes both Matsukawa and Hanamaki to restrain Iwaizumi from hitting Oikawa there and then.

 

-+-

 

Oikawa is immensely petty, Iwaizumi realises. It takes him longer than it should, and valuable time has been lost while Iwaizumi gets the brunt of Oikawa’s grudge. If the attacks weren’t targeted at Iwaizumi, he might have actually appreciated Oikawa’s humor. But as it is, he hates Oikawa, Oikawa hates him, and Iwaizumi finds it very easy to get angry at what Oikawa is doing to him.

 

The setter, with that incredibly large mouth of his, has spread the rumor that Iwaizumi wants to be the ace. Not that it’s wrong, Iwaizumi  _ does _ intend to be the ace someday, but it feels wrong to have that rumor buzzing around and floating on the tip of the team’s tongues when all the seniors are still in the team. The third years are still here, the second years have yet to take the stage, and Iwaizumi has a long way to go before even thinking about becoming the ace of Aobajousai. 

 

Oikawa, however, makes it sound like Iwaizumi wants to be ace, and  _ instantly _ . Which makes Iwaizumi sound like a pretentious asshole, something Oikawa is but Iwaizumi isn’t. Iwaizumi’s more of an unassuming asshole, who strikes back when others least expect it because he’s so quiet.

 

Not only does Oikawa want to ruin his reputation in the team and amongst the seniors, it seems, because Oikawa starts playing immature tricks as well. Iwaizumi opens his locker to find pond water and tiny tadpoles swimming in his shoes; his clothes are one size smaller than usual; sometimes, Iwaizumi even finds bugs crawling in his bag.

 

Joke’s on Oikawa though, because the one thing he doesn’t know about Iwaizumi is that he was a very outdoorsy kid. Iwaizumi was the kind of kid one would find in the middle of the forest, climbing trees and trying to catch bugs. He’d grab frogs with his bare hands and chase other children around the yard. Oikawa hated bugs, so Iwaizumi avoided mentioning them around him when they were younger.

 

Iwaizumi isn’t bothered by the tadpoles or bugs. He fishes them out like it’s perfectly normal, carries his bag and wears his current shoes home, holding the dripping pair of shoes in his hands. The clothes that are one size too small-- well, it’s not like Iwaizumi has anything to lose. The clothes just show off his muscles and make him look silly, but they  _ show off his muscles _ and Iwaizumi laughs to Matsukawa when he sees Oikawa staring at him. Clearly, Oikawa is regretting his poor choice of tricks to vent his hatred. Iwaizumi takes great pleasure in seeing Oikawa question his life choices.

 

It’s a little harder to retaliate though. Iwaizumi knows Oikawa well enough to hate him and have an alphabetized list on his faults, but Iwaizumi is rather lacking in the department of Oikawa’s other hatreds. He’s fairly certain Oikawa hates those who are smarter than him, but that’s all Iwaizumi knows. Oikawa could fear anything, Iwaizumi wouldn’t know-

 

_ Ah. _

 

Iwaizumi knows.

 

He shouldn’t be thinking about what Oikawa hates. He should be thinking about what Oikawa values the most, and  _ wreck it _ .

 

To start his notorious plan, Iwaizumi doesn’t do anything for the longest time, just watches as Oikawa steadily grows more and more uneasy, always looking over his back to check on Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi smirks at Oikawa, and Oikawa bares his teeth, eyes narrowing. 

 

“Iwa-chan,” he says, sickly sweet. “Your clothes look a bit small.”

 

“Hm?” Iwaizumi looks down. His clothes are one size too small, courtesy of Oikawa. He grins sharply at Oikawa. “Really? Must be your size then, since you’re so small.”

 

“Ah, Iwa-chan, is this what they call low self-esteem? You’re so short, Iwa-chan, there’s no way you’d wear something bigger than me. You’re insecure so you try and attack me, right?” Oikawa leans in, eyes locked onto Iwaizumi’s. “How are the tadpoles? Living a happy life?”

 

“They’ve grown into frogs the size of your head, and that’s pretty damn big,” Iwaizumi replies. “Maybe one of them will visit you later tonight, in your bed. How’s that sound?”

 

He can see Oikawa recoil just a bit, but try as he might, he doesn’t fault the setter. Frogs are  _ slimy _ , and when they get in the bed, well, the sheets would need to be washed a couple of times before they get clean. 

 

A fist thuds into the locker next to them. Iwaizumi looks to the side, and sees Matsukawa with his half-lidded gaze. He’s smiling, and for all the years that Iwaizumi has known Matsukawa, that’s never a good sign.

 

“Break it up, lovebirds.” Matsukawa chuckles when he sees both of them jerk his last word. “Some of us don’t want to see all this tension hanging around. Not good for team morale.”

 

Oikawa opens his mouth, and Hanamaki cuts in. “For the love of God, Oikawa, if you point at Iwaizumi and say  _ he started it _ , I will throw you off the cheering stands onto the court. And I will take pictures and post it on your webpage, don’t think I won’t do it.”

 

Iwaizumi is impressed at how fast Oikawa shuts up. But Matsukawa really went overboard with that statement of his;  _ lovebirds _ ? Iwaizumi can’t see it.

 

(Actually, he can, because he’s watched far too many romance dramas for his own good and he knows how the two sworn enemies fall in love and have a huge fancy wedding and invite all their friends.

 

It’s just… unnerving, to see it applied to him. Not that it’s ever going to happen. Not when  _ Oikawa _ is on the other side of the equation. 

 

Oikawa is a line Iwaizumi is not willing to cross.)

 

-+-

 

It is a Monday when Iwaizumi puts his grand plan into practice. Oikawa, for all his intelligence, leaves his phone unguarded at the most opportune of times. He’s showering, and everyone on the team knows Oikawa takes an ungodly amount of time to shower. He’s using all the hair care products and styling products to ensure his hair stays up and curled, Iwaizumi knows. He’s seen how many containers Oikawa brings to the shower. A crazy amount, that is. Iwaizumi only needs shampoo and soap. Maybe conditioner, on his bad days. Oikawa has at least ten. Hanamaki has said that he’s counted at least  _ fifteen _ . 

 

His phone is lying innocently on the top of his bag, and Iwaizumi knows his password. Mainly because Oikawa is very obvious when he unlocks his phone, and that password isn’t even hard to guess. He uses a dot password, and the combination is literally a square. Iwaizumi’s feeling some second hand embarrassment at Oikawa’s stupidity. Who, in this day and age, uses a  _ square _ as a dot password? 

 

Iwaizumi unlocks it and opens his alarm. Tomorrow is a holiday, the school having found some generosity deep within to gift the students something nice. And knowing Oikawa, he’ll sleep in. 

 

Iwaizumi sets twenty alarms, all five minutes apart, and places a lock on every one of them. Oikawa won’t be able to delete them in a fit of anger or frustration; no, he’ll have to wait every single one out. It’s a beautiful comeback. 

 

He sets the phone back just in time, barely before Oikawa walks out of the showers with his towel over his hair. The setter rummages around his bag, pants slinging low on his hips. His hipbones are  _ really sharp _ , Iwaizumi notes.

 

He tries to erase the thought from his mind. Oikawa’s not wearing a  _ shirt _ , and Iwaizumi knows Oikawa’s a narcissist but he doesn’t expect it to be at the level of walking around shirtless just to stare at himself in the mirror. Oikawa turns at just the wrong time, catching Iwaizumi’s eyes lingering.

 

Iwaizumi isn’t  _ staring _ , he’s just appreciating the muscles. Oikawa has put in work, and it shows. That’s all Iwaizumi is looking at.

 

“Oh, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs, forgetting his bag and leaning in. He cages Iwaizumi with his arms, forcing Iwaizumi back against the locker. “See something you like?”

 

Iwaizumi gives him a deadpan look. “Oh  _ yes _ ,” he says, licking his lips. “I see something I’d like to take out to the rubbish chute. All I see is  _ trash _ .”

 

Oikawa chuckles, half lidded eyes trained on Iwaizumi’s lips. “Ah, so that’s where your taste lies? The rubbish chute isn’t a very good dating place, Iwa-chan. And calling your partner trash is pretty rude. Are you  _ rude _ , Iwa-chan?”

 

“Very.” Iwaizumi leans in, lips curling up at the side, slow and steady. “And aren’t you just incredibly knowledgeable in that area? You’ve brought a girl there before? I’m amazed, Mr Slick. Bringing a pretty girl to a rubbish chute on a date. Did she cry and slap you? Did she leave you there in your natural habitat, amongst your kin?”

 

“Iwa-chan, do  _ you _ want to slap me around? I didn’t know you were a sadist.” Oikawa laughs as he leans back. A towel is thrown at Iwaizumi’s face and it’s only then he realises that they’re not the only two in the room. Matsukawa looks like he’s watching a car accident. Hanamaki looks green in the face. The seniors are cringing.

 

Hanamaki makes retching noises. “Get a room, no one wants to see you two realise your attraction for each other.”

 

“Makki, I’m not restricted to anyone!” Oikawa says brightly. “I share my love with everyone! Oh, Makki, are you  _ jealous _ ? Is that why you don’t want to see me talk to Iwa-chan?”

 

A shadow falls over Hanamaki’s face. Iwaizumi watches Oikawa move towards Hanamaki, probably intending to talk even more crap, and sticks his foot out in an entirely too childish act. Oikawa trips, the careless idiot that he is, and falls straight onto Hanamaki’s fist aimed at his solar plexus.

 

Oikawa chokes, clutching at Matsukawa at the side. “Mattsun,” he pleads. “Avenge me against these evil teammates who have assaulted me.”

 

Matsukawa drops him onto the ground.

 

The seniors don’t really care, turning around and laughing amongst themselves. Oikawa stays on the ground, still shirtless, and groans. “Everyone’s so  _ mean _ to me,” he complains, flapping a hand at Iwaizumi. “Especially Iwa-chan. Just because you’re jealous of how much better I am doesn’t mean you have to mistreat me! I feel like Cinderella!”

 

“Because you’re covered in dust and cinders and live next to the fireplace?” Iwaizumi asks bitingly as he passes by, and drops a towel on Oikawa’s face. “And the floor’s dirty. You’re making it even dirtier.”

 

“Iwa-chan, are you trying to be nice? That’s a huge zero out of hundred, but I’ll give you five marks for effort.” Oikawa sits up, holding the towel like it’s something disgusting. “This stinks of sweat.”

 

“It’s your own, Stupidkawa.” Iwaizumi says. “No one asked you to ruin the earth’s atmosphere with your sweat. You’re contributing to the hole in the ozone layer.”

 

Oikawa grins, eyes narrowing. “Because I’m too hot?”

 

Iwaizumi shoots him a dirty look. “Your temperature’s only high because you live next to the fireplace, Mr Cinderella.”

 

Oikawa laughs, and it’s so familiar it hurts. For once, Oikawa isn’t laughing like a stranger. Iwaizumi knows this laugh, has it saved in voicemail in his old phone at home, has heard it a million times on the phone late at night when a boy who falls down all too easily is talking excitedly about the UFO he may or may not have sighted. It makes his chest ache.

 

-+-

 

When Iwaizumi wakes up at five in the morning, it’s to the sound of his phone ringing. He groans, slamming a hand over his face to block out the light of his phone screen while the other gropes around the dark for his phone.

 

_ 21 missed calls. _

 

_ 40 new messages. _

 

Iwaizumi stares at the number of missed calls. That’s… a lot. Much more than he’d expect. And the culprit of this spamming is still trying to call him, evident from the way his phone is ringing at this ungodly time.

 

“Yes?” He asks, voice still heavy with sleep but tinged with obvious amusement. “Who’s calling?”

 

“ _ Iwa-chan _ ,” the person on the other end hisses. It’s vicious and spiteful and angry. Iwaizumi loves it. “ _ Make this stop _ .”

 

“Make what stop?” Iwaizumi yawns, rolling over and glancing at the clock. The digits flicker. He probably has to buy more batteries. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

 

“You did something to my phone, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa persists. “Don’t try and lie. No one knows my password except for you. And you only know it because you’re a creep that looks over people’s shoulders when they input their password.”

 

“Not my fault you’re as oblivious as a blind pig when you unlock your phone. Everybody knows your password. I just used it.” Iwaizumi points out, a grin on his face. It’s liberating, knowing that he’s made the Great King grind his teeth in irritation.

 

There’s loud groaning and the sound of something being thrown around in Oikawa’s room. Iwaizumi peers through the crack in his drawn curtains; he can see Oikawa pacing in his room. The lights are on, the bed is messed up, and Oikawa’s hair looks fabulous. That is to say, it’s sticking up in a million different places.

 

Iwaizumi snaps a quick picture for posterity. Oikawa whips around, narrowing his eyes at Iwaizumi’s window. Iwaizumi’s forgotten that his phone makes a very audible noise when taking pictures. 

 

“Iwa-chan!” He exclaims, huffing as he stomps over to the window. Oikawa throws his window up, leaning out. Back when they were kids, they could lean out as far as possible but they were never able to climb over. With Oikawa’s height now, he could probably swing across the tree in the middle and break into Iwaizumi’s house. “Stop being mean and make it  _ stop _ .”

 

Iwaizumi unwillingly drags his window up as well, leaning into cool morning breeze. “I didn’t do anything.” He repeats, hanging up the call seeing as they’re talking in person now. “I didn’t touch your phone, not today.”

 

“I’m not stupid, you did something to my phone yesterday.” Oikawa replies, unimpressed. “You set  _ twenty locked alarms _ . Only eight have rung, and they’re irritating, I’m tired, the bed is  _ right there _ but I know this phone will ring again in five minutes and  _ Iwa-chan, can you please make it stop? _ ”

 

Iwaizumi blinks. It’s been a long while since he’s heard the word ‘please’ come out of Oikawa’s mouth. He usually just states what he wants and it usually gets delivered to him. He doesn’t have to be polite.

 

“Who made my clothes one size too small?” Iwaizumi asks, propping up his head with his palm. “Who put bugs in my bag? Who put tadpoles in my shoes?”

 

“But you didn’t  _ care _ , Iwa-chan!” Oikawa grumbles, pressing the base of his palms against his eyes. Iwaizumi feels a little bit bad; the boy really does look tired. “I just want to sleep, will you  _ please _ stop the alarms?”

 

Iwaizumi thinks about it. If he does stop the alarms, he’ll be giving in way too easily. He’ll be taken advantage of. This kindness will not be forgotten by Oikawa. He might pay it back twofold by being entirely too cruel to Iwaizumi, knowing that Iwaizumi can’t help but be nice to him.

 

On the other hand, Oikawa might  _ pay it back twofold _ by actually being better at practice. Have a better attitude, stop with his shitty remarks, cut down on his stupid gestures and poses; those will easily strike off ten faults on Iwaizumi’s list.

 

“Throw it over,” Iwaizumi finally says. The tension visibly leaves Oikawa’s shoulders, and the boy almost falls to the floor in relief. It’s Iwaizumi’s turn to tense up when Oikawa perks up, eyes glinting as he tucks the phone safely in his pocket and grips the tree branch.

 

“No, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi warns him. “Whatever you’re thinking with that walnut sized brain of yours, it’s stupid. I will  _ kick you out of my window and watch you drop to the ground _ .”

 

Oikawa raises an eyebrow at him,  _ challenging _ Iwaizumi, and swings over.

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Iwaizumi is a weak, weak boy and he moves to the side, letting Oikawa tumble in. He hates Oikawa but he’s pretty sure that a drop from that height will break at least two bones, and the team can’t risk a setter like Oikawa going out of commission. 

 

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

 

“Iwa-chan, please.” Oikawa says, pushing his phone into Iwaizumi’s hands. “Make the alarms go away.”

 

Iwaizumi takes the phone and lets his finger hover over the screen. “I’m surprised you’re trusting me with your phone,” he murmurs. Though he says that, Iwaizumi doesn’t do anything other than unlock the screen and search for Oikawa’s alarm. “I could be sneakily making more alarms.”

 

“You’re not stupid enough to tell me what you’re going to do.” Oikawa looks thoughtful. “Then again, it could be reverse psychology, but I don’t think Iwa-chan’s  _ that _ smart.”

 

“I will throw you down my stairs and I will have no regrets,” Iwaizumi tells him. Oikawa smiles, low and dark. It occurs to Iwaizumi that it’s five in the morning, it’s still pretty dark with his lights off, and Oikawa is inching closer to him.

 

Iwaizumi glares at him and moves to lounge on his bed. “Come closer to me and I will kick you. I mean it.”

 

He takes his time, slowly disabling each alarm. It’s a shame that Oikawa isn’t willing to let it all play out. The songs Iwaizumi set as alarms were actually pretty good, in his opinion. There’s one particular screamo that really fires him up.

 

Iwaizumi looks up, and sees Oikawa squinting at the alphabetized list that Iwaizumi has pinned up. He snorts, shaking his head. “Like what you see?” Iwaizumi offers.

 

Oikawa turns around, looking like he’s seen the dead. “Iwa-chan,” he says softly, eyes wide. “Is this a list of the things you love about me? I never knew Iwa-chan thought about me that much. Iwa-chan’s love is really very deep, isn’t it?!”

 

Iwaizumi throws the closest thing at Oikawa’s head. Disappointingly, it’s his pillow, and all Oikawa gets is a soft fluffy item instead of the rock Iwaizumi had hoped his hand would land on. 

 

“It’s a list of all the things I hate about you,” Iwaizumi tells him straightforwardly. “I really hate everything written there.”

 

“Ah, you’ve underlined my smile three times! You don’t like it? But Iwa-chan, I look so nice when I smile! Definitely better than you. Iwa-chan, you should smile more instead of frowning, or those frown lines will stay with you until you’re old and still single and you’ll have to live alone with no one who loves you.” Oikawa tilts his head. “You don’t like my voice either?! But I can’t change that!”

 

“I don’t like your falsetto,” Iwaizumi corrects. “Your voice goes higher when you talk to someone of higher standing than you, and it’s incredibly irritating for a reason I can’t understand. It makes me want to punch you.”

 

“I do  _ not _ have a falsetto!”

 

“Matsukawa agrees with me on that, actually,” Iwaizumi points out.

 

Oikawa is taken aback. He looks appalled. “Mattsun  _ said _ that?! Why are all of you so mean?! I’m very nice!”

 

“No, you’re horrible.” It’s an instinctive reaction to reply with that sentence. Iwaizumi steals a look at Oikawa. The setter just seems irritated.

 

“No, Iwa-chan. I’m only horrible because  _ you’re _ horrible,” Oikawa says in irritation. “You say bad things to me, and I have to fight back!”

 

“I’m horrible because  _ you’re _ horrible, get your facts right,” Iwaizumi informs him. “You were horrible a lot earlier than me. My mother can prove that statement, and so can your mother.”

 

Oikawa stares at him for a while after Iwaizumi mentions their parents. His gaze is heavy, dragging over Iwaizumi like Oikawa’s looking at him in a new light. It’s slow and Iwaizumi isn’t sure, but he thinks he can see desperation in Oikawa’s eyes.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, walking over. Iwaizumi would very much like to scoot back and run away, but his bed is against the wall and he’s left trapped between the wall and Oikawa. Both entirely unappealing options. “Are you thinking of what happened last time?”

 

“No,” Iwaizumi replies, way too fast and way too hurried. The word sounds as if it was forced out of him. It’s fairly clear Iwaizumi’s lying. He wants to slap himself.

 

“Well, I am.” Oikawa climbs on the bed, kneeling in front of Iwaizumi. One arm reaches up to press against the wall. Iwaizumi raises his eyebrow at Oikawa in retaliation. They seem to find themselves in this position way too much, with Oikawa trying to cage Iwaizumi. “I’m thinking of what happened the last time I came over to your room.”

 

“You were ten and a crybaby,” Iwaizumi murmurs, breath ghosting across Oikawa’s skin. Oikawa’s too close for comfort. “Are you trying to remember how you cried? It was very unattractive, just like your current face.”

 

“Ouch, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, without any venom. “You almost pissed your pants when you watched that horror movie with me at night. You can’t talk.”

 

“We didn’t watch a horror movie the last time you came over.” Iwaizumi grips Oikawa’s shoulders and flips them around. Now Oikawa is pressed up against the wall and Iwaizumi is caging him in. It’s a rush of power, a steady flow that goes to his head and makes Iwaizumi just a little giddy. It’s a nice feeling, having Oikawa trapped between his arms and knees. “We built a-”

 

“-a blanket fort, I remember.” Oikawa sighs, biting his lip. “We stole blankets from our parents’ rooms as well. We took all the spare pillows. We had a pillow fight.”

 

“It was a pretty good pillow fight,” Iwaizumi agrees. “I got to hit you.”

 

“I smacked you in the face and you toppled off the bed, Iwa-chan.” 

 

“I hit you in the face on  _ accident _ and you cried so hard you stayed in the toilet for fifteen minutes to clean yourself up,” Iwaizumi reminds Oikawa. Oikawa doesn’t get embarrassed; he doesn’t turn red, the way Iwaizumi thinks he will. He just laughs, light and happy, leaning his head against Iwaizumi’s forearm.

 

“What changed, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, his previously clear voice degenerating into a mumble, tiredness seeping in. “What happened?”

 

“What do you mean what happened?” Iwaizumi leans in and watches Oikawa’s eyelids droop. The boy is tired and sleep deprived, both courtesy of Iwaizumi. “We grew up. And we grew apart.”

 

It makes his chest ache to admit it. Iwaizumi doesn’t want to think of how he waited for Oikawa’s calls every day, of how the calls dwindled from daily calls to weekly calls to monthly calls, of how Oikawa never came over because he was too busy with his new friends.

 

“I don’t remember that happening, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbles drowsily. “I don’t… growing apart… what? When? You were my best. It shouldn’t have changed.”

 

Iwaizumi… Iwaizumi’s eyes are blown wide, his fingers trembling where they are, pressed against the wall. He’s shaking, shoulders fraught with tension. This… This isn’t what he expected. Iwaizumi hasn’t factored this in his thoughts, not in a million years will he ever consider this.

 

It might have been? Perhaps, it was all just-

 

Just a misunderstanding? Poor communication on the parts of two idiot children who thought they were so secure in their friendship that when one of them made other friends, the lonely one felt left behind, felt thrown away, while the popular one always kept his first friend as number one in his heart? And slowly, quietly, like rainfall, because of the insecurity of the first child, their friendship just… fell apart?

 

Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa sleeping on his arm, mouth open and hair all over the place, his face peaceful. He looks at him and sees the boy from six years ago, laughing without a care in the world, snuggled under blankets strewn across the bed, twitching at jump scares and whining about how it was dark. Iwaizumi sees the boy who dragged ten year old Iwaizumi out on the days a meteor shower was rumored to happen, who made him wait on the wet grass until late at night, who cried when the meteor shower didn’t happen because he cried easily at small things like that.

 

Iwaizumi’s breath catches in his throat, and he feels terrible. His heart is hammering in his chest, pounding against his ribcage and his mind is running overtime. It’s startling, it’s scary, it’s worrying, and Iwaizumi feels like his world is crashing down around him. He doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know what this will do to their relationship. 

 

This new knowledge, the possibility that their relationship failed all because he misunderstood Oikawa, it makes his chest ache. He’s missed Oikawa for so long, and perhaps blamed him a little, deep down, but for the longest time, for the ten years they’ve drifted apart, he’s missed his best friend. Iwaizumi has ached for him for  _ so long _ , and now he’s (literally) in Iwaizumi’s arms and he-

 

He isn’t fit to be Oikawa’s best friend anymore, is he? He had dropped Oikawa the way he thought Oikawa had dropped him, but the setter never- he didn’t- he wasn’t trying to-

 

Iwaizumi has been an  _ ass _ .

 

-+-

 

Matsukawa is looking at him strangely. Iwaizumi looks back, Matsukawa raises an eyebrow, Iwaizumi shrugs. They’ve mastered the art of silent communication. Matsukawa doesn’t seem to be satisfied with that answer though, and walks over.

 

“You’re strangely nice to Oikawa,” he says. He looks judgemental, and Iwaizumi takes it all in stride. “Something happened on Tuesday, didn’t it?”

 

Iwaizumi shrugs. So much had happened on Tuesday; where should he start to explain? “I realised I was wrong about him. My hatred was unfounded.”

 

“Your hatred was unfounded from the start.” Matsukawa is unimpressed. “But you’re  _ really nice _ to him. You don’t scold him, you don’t antagonise him, you try to avoid looking in his general direction. I think he’s actually trying to get your attention.”

 

“That’s a lie,” Iwaizumi replies without thought. “He just wants attention in general. It just so happens that I’m not looking at him.”

 

Matsukawa zeroes in on that immediately. “And why? You’re usually on the lookout for something to scold him about. The gym hasn’t been filled with tension from you two for two days. We’re getting antsy.”

 

“Why would you be antsy?” Iwaizumi asks, vaguely horrified. “Did our arguing affect you that much?”

 

“No, and you didn’t hear it from me, but some people may possibly have a betting pool going on about the two of you. Care to drop a hint or two for me?” Matsukawa grins, nudging Iwaizumi. “Are you going to make a move on him?”

 

“Make a move on him?” Iwaizumi frowns. “Make a move on who, Oikawa? Why?”

 

“Oh god.” Matsukawa buries his face in his hands. “Have you  _ not noticed _ the way he looks at you? Who am I kidding, you haven’t. You’re just pure muscle and no brain.”

 

“And you’ve got a brain?” Iwaizumi asks in return. “I’d pay to see that. Your mind is as empty as an empty water bottle.”

 

Matsukawa glowers at him. “You’re so terrible.”

 

“Right back at you,” Iwaizumi tells him, a smile pulling at his lips. In his peripheral vision, he sees Oikawa’s eyes lingering on them, and wonders.

 

Matsukawa says Oikawa looks at him in a certain way. Is it bottled up anger? Possibly. Hatred? Possible, and understandable. Iwaizumi’s hatred has simmered down into a slow fire, somewhere deep in his heart where a ten year old Iwaizumi pokes at the flames with a stick. He doesn’t hate Oikawa, realises that he’s never hated Oikawa. The emotion he felt in his chest was  _ resentment _ , not hatred. 

 

He  _ does _ hate how fake Oikawa is though, in front of the girls. Or maybe… he’s not fake? Iwaizumi honestly can’t judge; he hasn’t been close to Oikawa for six years. Six years can change someone’s personality. But it feels like someone is trailing fingernails up the spine of his back and it’s an eerie feeling. It makes him want to arch his back, stand up straighter, throw his shoulders back and shudder.

 

“Iwa-chan, you look really lost! Thinking about how you’ll never get a girlfriend with that ugly face?” Oikawa knocks his shoulder against Iwaizumi’s as he passes by. “Such a shame, really, if only you were nicer. Not that it’s in your personality! Would it hurt if you smiled? Maybe the muscles in your face would freeze up. Can you get a cramp in your face?”

 

Iwaizumi doesn’t reply, watching Oikawa’s back as he walks in front. It’s around two seconds before Oikawa pauses, looking back. “Iwa-chan?” He asks, tilting his head. He puts a hand on his hip and puts his weight on one leg, the other bending at the knee. With his height, he looks like a model.

 

He doesn’t- Iwaizumi doesn’t- he has  _ no explanation _ as to why that thought just popped into his head.

 

“What?” Iwaizumi says, looking down at the volleyball in in his hands. He can’t bear to look at Oikawa, not when he now knows what the setter looks like while sleeping. It had been embarrassing to wake up with Oikawa still sleeping in his arms at eight in the morning, after the whole ordeal at five. Iwaizumi will admit he ran away from the situation, almost tripping and falling down the stairs in his haste to leave his bedroom, where Oikawa was.

 

Oikawa steps in front of him, waiting. Iwaizumi looks at him, a shadow falling over his face at Oikawa’s smug face. Okay, he doesn’t hate Oikawa, he’s not angry at Oikawa, but that face really does make Iwaizumi want to punch him. 

 

“Iwa-chan, are you mad at me?” Oikawa suddenly asks.

 

“What? No!” The answer is startled out of Iwaizumi, and now that it’s out in the air, he can’t take it back. It hangs in the silence between them, stifling them. 

 

Iwaizumi swallows and looks at Oikawa straight in the eye. “I don’t hate you.” He takes a shuddery breath. “I… I’m not angry at you either. I acted without knowing what happened. I’ve said some pretty mean things. I’m sorry.”

 

He moves to go, but Oikawa throws a hand out, thudding against Iwaizumi’s chest.

 

“What do you mean you’re sorry?” Oikawa says. “I’m not sorry for everything I’ve done. Why are you? Unless, Iwa-chan, you’ve finally realised how much better I am?”

 

“As if.” Iwaizumi’s lips move to curve in a smile before he catches himself. Ah, right. He shouldn’t be bantering with Oikawa, should he?

 

Oikawa looks at him in a way he hasn’t for six years, and Iwaizumi shrugs at him. He doesn’t know what to say. Oikawa looks scared, worried, mildly angry, and Iwaizumi can’t understand. Iwaizumi’s pretty sure he looks scared as well. He’s unsure of how to deal with Oikawa now. 

 

“Okay, that’s it.” A voice says decisively from behind him. There’s the cracking of knuckles, and Iwaizumi turns to see Matsukawa standing there with a frown. “We’re making you two sort this out.”

 

The thing about Matsukawa and Hanamaki is that they’re fast, and they lug Iwaizumi as well as Oikawa to the locker room in a matter of seconds. There’s the click of the lock, and Iwaizumi stares at the door in horror.

 

“If you don’t unlock this door, I  _ will _ jump out of the window,” he warns, hoping that the two boys will heed his warning and open the damn door. There’s a snicker, and Iwaizumi groans, turning around. Oikawa sits on the bench, staring pensively at his locker.

 

Iwaizumi sits on the ground and runs his fingers through his hair. He takes in a deep breath to prepare himself. If he knows Matsukawa, that boy won’t let the two of them out until after he hears shouting. Matsukawa’s been pretty adamant that Iwaizumi and Oikawa need to sort out their differences via screaming.

 

“If we’re going to talk,” he starts, eyes looking at the floor. “Then we should start soon. It’s getting late.”

 

“Okay Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sits in front of him, cross legged. “Let’s talk.”

 

There’s another stretch of silence between the two of them. Iwaizumi shifts, cracking his knuckles. Oikawa stretches. They don’t know what to say.

 

“First of all,” Iwaizumi begins, trying to lead the conversation in a direction he can control. “I was… rather mean towards you. I said some rude stuff, I misjudged you, and I’m sorry.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Oikawa frowns, lines appearing in his forehead. Iwaizumi’s tempted to reach over and smooth them out, telling him to stop frowning or he’ll get wrinkles when he grows old. He keeps his hands to himself. “Iwa-chan,  _ why _ are you sorry? You weren’t mean to me. You were perfectly normal.”   
  
“I called you names and made fun of you?” He phrases it like a question. Iwaizumi’s confused. “Aren’t you mad?”

 

“No?” Oikawa says. “Why would I be mad? That’s your character! And I know you don’t like my character, so being mean is fine. It’s a natural reaction. I’ve been meaner than you to some people. I don’t apologise to them for being mean.”

 

“Oh, Kageyama Tobio, right? I’ve heard the stories. You almost served a ball into his face? On purpose? That’s… really dangerous.” Iwaizumi leans back against the bench. “That was pretty stupid of you.”

 

“See? Insulting me is natural to you! Iwa-chan, I really don’t mind.  _ Really _ . But I do want to know why you- why we- why we stopped being friends.”

 

Iwaizumi steels himself. This is going to be a tough conversation. “We were best friends until we were ten. Afterwards, we were in different classes, and you were that incredibly social kid. You made tons of friends in one day, made plans to go out and do stuff, and I was- I was lonely, I guess. I knew you were going to grow up and have other friends but I guess I wasn’t prepared for it. I-” He looks away, pressing his fist against his mouth. Iwaizumi’s not emotional, he  _ isn’t _ , but he’s spent six years bottling this up inside of him and he’s breaking down, right now, in front of the one person Iwaizumi doesn’t want to see him break down.

 

“I was immature and didn’t understand why you didn’t spend all your time with me. I pictured it as you leaving me behind and for some stupid reason, I never let go of that resentment until high school. I always phrased it as your fault, in my mind, even though I should have realised that- that it wasn’t your fault, you know? So really, it’s all my fault, I was stupid and possessive and immature and I didn’t understand how human relationships worked and I was the one who ruined our friendship.” 

 

Iwaizumi’s taking deep shuddery breaths at this stage, his chest heaving with each breath he desperately draws into his lungs. He’s tearing up, he’s  _ tearing up _ , and he wants to run away. Iwaizumi is weak, no matter how much he pretends he’s strong, and he’s always, always has been, weaker in front of Oikawa Tooru.

 

It’s some psychological thing. Oikawa’s seen him cry since he was three, Iwaizumi’s seen Oikawa cry since he was three, he doesn’t feel the need to hide his tears in front of Oikawa, though he really, really should. 

 

“ _ Iwa-chan _ .” Oikawa says the words like they hurt him, and Iwaizumi chances a look at him. Oikawa’s eyes are red rimmed, and he looks like he’s tearing up as well. “I didn’t know.”

 

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I told you.” Iwaizumi barks out a bitter laugh. “I just- I’m incredibly embarrassed, being hung up over something that happened when we were  _ ten _ . It’s stupid.”

 

“But you can’t just put the blame on yourself!” Oikawa berates, scooting over until he’s close enough to touch Iwaizumi. He keeps his hands to himself though, fidgeting as he opens and closes his mouth, unsure of what to say. “I- I was pretty mean as well. I was ten, and I was possessive of you too, and I- I was very stupid too! I wanted you to be dependent on me, and that’s why I tried to make friends and keep coming back to you at the same time to make you think that I’d always be there for you and- and I’d be your number one! I was so  _ jealous _ of the way you laughed with your classmates when I wasn’t there, and even though I know you were so nice to me by waiting for- for me to go home together, and I-”

 

“Oikawa, that doesn’t-” Iwaizumi tries to say, but Oikawa ignores him and rambles on.

 

“It doesn’t excuse anything! It- it  _ matters _ , okay, Iwa-chan? I have to say it. You were so nice to me and I  _ knew _ I was your number one because you waited every day and you always came over when I asked you to and you never said no to me but I was  _ mean _ and I wanted to make you jealous to see- to see if you really liked me. So I made lots of friends and- and didn’t invite you to come with us and I left you waiting at the school gate  _ so many times _ and my mom told me your mom said you kept waiting at the phone thinking I’d call you but I  _ didn’t _ and I was so terrible to you, Iwa-chan, I’m  _ sorry _ .” Oikawa rubs at his eyes, sniffling. 

 

“I was a stupid and mean and terrible friend when I was ten, and I didn’t stop. When you stopped waiting for me I was so  _ mad _ , and I pretended to ignore you and pretended that it didn’t matter but I swear I cried myself to sleep sometimes and I didn’t know I  _ hurt _ you so much as well.”

 

Iwaizumi slaps his hand across his eyes and takes a deep breath. Six years of resentment, of jealousy, of anger and tears and crying at night wondering where they had gone wrong, all because of misunderstandings. He’s pissed at himself, pissed at his ten year old self, pissed at Oikawa’s ten year old self, and he’s so angry that he didn’t try to fix their friendship back then. He’s known, he’s  _ always known _ that Oikawa has an ego larger than Japan and it practically physically hurts Oikawa to admit he’s wrong. Iwaizumi, knowing this, should have been the first to approach Oikawa, should have been the first to talk to Oikawa and try to sort things out.

 

But Iwaizumi didn’t. And he just witnessed their friendship go up in flames while holding a water hose in his hand. He could’ve  _ fixed _ it, but he  _ didn’t _ . 

 

It’s funny how something that happened when they were ten can affect them so much. They were stupid, they were ten, they were children, they were immature, and it hurts like his muscles are tearing apart at the seams.

 

“So,” Iwaizumi says after a long pause. “We agree we were stupid.”

 

“Iwa-chan, you don’t have to put it that way.” Oikawa rubs at his eyes. “Don’t be so crude. We were  _ immature _ and didn’t understand each other.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. What now?”

 

“What now, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks. “What do you mean?”

 

“What are we now?” He asks, gesturing between the two of them. “Friends?”

 

“Just friends?” Oikawa looks contemplative. “We know lots of things about each other that friends wouldn’t know. And we live next to each other. And we have a history. And we-”

 

“Get to the point. If you don’t want to be ‘just friends’ with me,” Iwaizumi deadpans, using his fingers to gesture quotation marks around the words  _ just friends _ , “what do you want to be?”

 

There’s a loud cough outside the door and a snicker. “Can I give a suggestion?” Matsukawa asks from outside, and Iwaizumi wants to throw a bench at the door. He’s fairly certain he can lift it up and hurl it. He’s pretty strong.

 

“Shut up Mattsun,” Oikawa raises his voice, loud enough for Matsukawa and Hanamaki to hear. “Your opinion isn’t valued in this conversation.”

 

There’s a choked laughter and the sound of someone smacking another.

 

Oikawa scoots closer to Iwaizumi, until their shins are touching and their knees are bumping into each other. “Iwa-chan,” he starts, conviction in his eyes. “I want to be best friends with you again. I want to be able to sneak into your room in the middle of the night again. I want to watch movies under the blankets with you again and freak out over horror shows. Iwa-chan, can’t we go  _ back _ ?”

 

Iwaizumi’s pretty sure he looks like he’s just been slapped, but he doesn’t have a mirror at his disposal so he can’t prove it. “Um,” he says, and wants to hit himself. The epitome of intelligence, really, the response of  _ um _ . “I- I mean, that sounds nice and great, I guess? I… I do miss you, in a way.” 

 

Iwaizumi looks away. There’s a hot flush in his cheeks and he’s very certain he’s blushing. Oikawa shouldn’t be able to do this to him.

 

“So best friends?” Oikawa asks excitedly. “Really, Iwa-chan? Can we?”

 

Iwaizumi rubs at the back of his head, eyes sliding to meet Oikawa’s excited ones before darting away again, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact.

 

“I… guess?”

 

-+-

 

If Iwaizumi had known that being best friends with Oikawa immediately meant the forgoing of personal boundaries and space, he might have reconsidered his acceptance of the role.

 

It’s like those six years of loneliness have disappeared into nothing, never even existed in the first place, and Oikawa slides back into place like he still remembers Iwaizumi’s favourite food and color. Which he does. And Iwaizumi remembers Oikawa’s favourite food and color as well. It feels like ingrained information, something stuck in his head for so long that Iwaizumi doesn’t even have to think about it before he knows. 

 

Forget Oikawa’s fangirls who gossip about everything and anything under the sun involving Oikawa. Iwaizumi is a walking Oikawa dictionary. Matsukawa and Hanamaki have taken to randomly springing questions on him and even they’re impressed about the amount of knowledge Iwaizumi retains about Oikawa, seeing as they’ve been ignoring each other for about six years.

 

Maybe it’s because Oikawa is the kind of guy who likes routine. He doesn’t change much, doesn’t exactly welcome change, and he stays. Not that change is bad, Iwaizumi has known Oikawa to change when necessary, when a new team comes and he has to switch up his plans, when his results are all over the place and Oikawa has to come up with a new studying plan instead of spending all of his time on volleyball, when Iwaizumi was five and Oikawa tried to set ants on fire before Iwaizumi pulled at his hand, eyes blazing with a strange sort of justice. Oikawa never did anything to insects after that, and vehemently denies ever doing that.

 

Oikawa acts like the six years of separation have never occurred and seems to believe that he’s entitled to Iwaizumi as a whole. He leans on Iwaizumi, uses him as a pillar, uses him as a pillow, latches onto Iwaizumi and whines when he’s tired, fits himself next to Iwaizumi during lunch and just clings to Iwaizumi in general. 

 

Their day goes a bit like this. Iwaizumi wakes up, grabs his bag, and jumps across to wake Oikawa up. More often than not, Iwaizumi wakes up earlier than Oikawa, and Oikawa’s mom seems to have automatically delegated the role of getting Oikawa up to Iwaizumi, as it had been when they were younger. Oikawa wakes up, takes a long time to get his hair done, grabs his bag and they both leave for school.

 

Morning practice is tiring and it leaves Iwaizumi sweaty and vaguely irritated. He showers, has to listen to Oikawa sing in the cubicle next to his, and sighs sufferingly. Hanamaki laughs at what Iwaizumi has to put up with, and Iwaizumi scowls, but waits for Oikawa to finish nonetheless. Oikawa will definitely complain if Iwaizumi isn’t outside waiting for him when Oikawa is done with his endlessly long showers. Oikawa finishes (finally), and they go to class.

 

When lunch comes by, Iwaizumi goes to the clubroom, Oikawa pressed up at his side. It’s annoying, walking down the hallway when girls squeal and their eyes light up and Iwaizumi knows it isn’t for him, but for the boy at his side who throws out smiles like he’s a smile dispenser. Which he probably is, knowing Oikawa. That boy lives for smiles and nothing else.

 

Oikawa settles next to Iwaizumi, complains to Matsukawa and Hanamaki about the latest incident, gossips about the articles in the volleyball magazines, and steals food from Iwaizumi whenever he can. Iwaizumi retaliates, of course. It’s like Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s mothers know that they’ll steal food from each other, and purposefully leave parts of the other’s favourite food in their sons bentos. Iwaizumi can see tofu in Oikawa’s bento, and he’s pretty damn certain that Oikawa doesn’t even like tofu that much. It’s a mother conspiracy, but Iwaizumi isn’t going to complain. Oikawa’s mother makes excellent tofu.

 

Afternoon practice comes and goes, and Iwaizumi has to wait for Oikawa to finish showering again. They go home together, and more often than not, squish next to other at the table to eat and finish their homework. Sometimes they go to Oikawa’s house, sometimes they go to Iwaizumi’s house, and it’s like their parents don’t even care anymore. Whichever house they go, their parents just ring up each other and inform them. It isn’t a big deal, having to prepare food for one more person.

 

Suddenly, Iwaizumi can’t remember a time where Oikawa hasn’t had one part of his body in contact with Iwaizumi, other than class time or practice, or when they’re sleeping. Sometimes not even then. Oikawa squeezes in with him if they’ve watched a particularly scary movie, refusing to switch the lights off; Iwaizumi forces himself in between Oikawa and the wall because if anything is going to crawl out from under the bed, at least he has Oikawa as a buffer. Oikawa presses himself against Iwaizumi, breath fast as he looks at the ceiling.

 

They jab at each other, trying to fit on a bed that’s way too small. When he’s in Oikawa’s room, he sees the glow in the dark stars he struggled to stick to Oikawa’s ceiling, the pretty glowing things that make Oikawa relax, eyes curving up as he fondly looks at the stars.

 

It’s strange, feeling a body pressed up so close against him when he hasn’t felt anything like it in ages, but maybe his arm is made of memory foam, the way it bends and wraps around Oikawa like he used to.

 

Iwaizumi relaxes and loses himself in the glow in the dark stars. Their soft luminosity makes him forget the harshness of the movie, and lulls him to sleep.

 

The stars remind him of Oikawa, just a bit.

 

-+-

 

It’s easy to lose himself in Oikawa. Startlingly easy. Oikawa is constantly at his side, something steady, something strong and reliable even with how flighty he can be at times. Oikawa’s eyes are brown and round and bright, and Iwaizumi finds himself stuck at one spot, tilting his head and watching.

 

Oikawa is this pillar next to Iwaizumi, and sometimes Iwaizumi finds himself leaning towards Oikawa if the latter is further than usual. In other words, more than one arm’s length apart. Iwaizumi has gotten so used to a person by his side, a warm body pressed up against him, that if Oikawa straightens and leans away to talk to Matsukawa, Iwaizumi’s body follows on autopilot.

 

Oikawa grins, bright and easy and happy, and Iwaizumi looks away, cheeks flushed. 

 

All of a sudden, all this intense emotion swirling inside of Iwaizumi has  _ changed _ into something else, and Iwaizumi doesn’t know how to deal. Doesn’t know how to face Oikawa when one look at the boy makes Iwaizumi want to burst into flames.

 

-+-

 

When Matsukawa and Hanamaki get together, it’s without any preamble at all but Iwaizumi finds himself unsurprised. It just feels like they were puzzle pieces slotting together after a very slow player pieced them together. The whole affair just seems like it took longer than necessary. It feels like they should have gotten together  _ earlier _ . 

 

The reveal isn’t anything big; Hanamaki just pressed a kiss to the side of Matsukawa’s lips before he stood up to go get a drink from the vending machine and Iwaizumi will hold his hand up to the sky and confess that he didn’t even notice anything different. It was Oikawa whose grip tightened on his arm like a clamp and hissed in Iwaizumi’s ear  _ did you just see what I saw? _

 

“What?” Iwaizumi hisses back. “See what?”

 

“Makki kissed Mattsun!”

 

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Iwaizumi to realise that it indicates a change in Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s relationship. 

 

They’re best friends, after all. Best friends who spend majority of their time with each other and they’re always by each other’s side and it’s no surprise that they got together. No one understands you more than a best friend, after all. A best friend is the best possible dating prospect one can ever get. The transition from best friend to boyfriend must be impossibly easy.

 

And  _ oh _ , Iwaizumi belatedly realises, face red at the thought of where his thoughts are leading.  _ He’s _ best friends with  _ Oikawa _ . 

 

That thought shouldn’t make him feel like he just drank ten cans of carbonated drink. It’s giving him fizzy bubbles that aren’t going anywhere. 

 

Oikawa glares at Matsukawa, and Matsukawa raises an eyebrow in return. “Mattsun!” Oikawa whines, lips curling into a pout. “Why didn’t you tell us?! Or more likely, why didn’t you tell me?!”

 

Matsukawa blinks. “We did tell you. But you two were too caught up in the movie, probably.” He leans forward and leers at them, eyebrows waggling. “And too caught up in pressing against each other in fear.”

 

“Movie?” Iwaizumi repeats, furrowing his brows. “You mean the horror movie we watched a week ago? That long?”

 

Oikawa wilts, burying his face in Iwaizumi’s neck and makes a dying noise. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice! Iwaizumi’s a rock, so it’s okay if he didn’t, but how could I not have noticed?!”

 

“Hey!” Iwaizumi says without any heat whatsoever, and shrugs to try and throw Oikawa off his shoulder. Oikawa clings to him, pretending to cry.

 

“See?” Matsukawa says, lips turning up in a smile. “You two get so caught up in each other. It’s no surprise you missed us telling you.”

 

“This sucks,” Oikawa mutters petulantly. “Now I can’t even celebrate your relationship because I didn’t pay attention to the announcement, and I can’t give you the shovel talk either! I’ll have to give  _ both _ of you the shovel talk! Iwa-chan, why did our friends have to get together?”

 

“If you make Hanamaki cry, I’ll make you cry,” Iwaizumi says seriously, cracking his knuckles in what he hopes is a menacing manner. “But if Hanamaki makes you cry, I’ll beat him up for you too.”

 

Matsukawa looks him over, and Iwaizumi automatically flexes, showing that he does pose a very real threat and Matsukawa laughs, shaking his head.

 

“Yeah, I’ll believe that.” He leans back against the wall. “I think we found something good, though. We’re best friends. We already know everything about each other, and how each other works. We’ll make it work.”

 

He looks knowingly at Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi can feel the tips of his ears heat up. He tries very hard not to look at Oikawa who’s attached to his arm and staring at Matsukawa with his lips pursed. 

 

“Maybe the two of you could consider getting together too?” Matsukawa throws it out there with a smirk, and Iwaizumi very carefully does not tense up. Oikawa is sensitive beyond belief and if Iwaizumi tenses up now, he’ll very well take it as a sign that Iwaizumi wants nothing to do with dating him and Oikawa will sulk for a week. And not give Iwaizumi any of his tofu, which is a tragedy that has to be avoided at all costs.

 

Oikawa doesn’t tense up either, and he drapes himself even further on Iwaizumi’s body, all loose-limbed and lazy half-lidded eyes.

 

“Maybe we will,” he says in reply, and Iwaizumi tries to look at Oikawa to see if there’s truth in his eyes but Oikawa is angling his face away and Iwaizumi’s left in the dark.

 

Maybe, he thinks, with the way Oikawa is pressed against him, he’ll be able to hear the way Iwaizumi’s heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest. Maybe, he thinks, cheeks flaming; maybe Oikawa  _ means _ it.

 

But Oikawa has a brilliant poker face, and Iwaizumi can only tell if he’s lying if he looks Oikawa straight in the eye, and there’s way too many  _ maybes _ for his liking.

 

“Maybe,” he echoes, looking at Matsukawa, whose eyes have softened while looking at them. 

 

Maybe there won’t be any more misunderstandings.

 

-+-

 

Oikawa’s the one who catches him first, presses him against the wall after practice with bright eyes and a smile.

 

“Iwa-chan,” he says, lips tugged up with a smile that Iwaizumi needs sunglasses to see - and put some space between them - because this is way too close for comfort. Iwaizumi’s feeling way too comfortable, more than he should be. “Would you like to go out with me?”

 

Iwaizumi blinks, and his eyes fall to Oikawa’s lips - which,  _ bad Iwaizumi, eyes aren’t there, look back up _ \- but dating involves kissing, yeah? And Iwaizumi’s noticed for a long, long time that Oikawa is good looking. Endlessly good looking, but Iwaizumi isn’t about to admit that to his too perfect face.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa repeats, leaning in closer. “Will you go out with me?”

 

“Yes?” Iwaizumi replies in a daze, the word rushing out of him like a breath held too long. “Uh, yes?”

 

Oikawa’s trying to act all slick and Iwaizumi, regrettably, is  _ painfully _ aware of that but he’s stupidly falling for it, falling for Oikawa’s smoothness and the way he traps Iwaizumi with his entire body against the wall-

 

“Is that a statement or a question?” Oikawa asks, eyes gleaming. And Iwaizumi- it’s a little late, by maybe a few seconds, but he knows this game, knows the look in Oikawa’s eyes and it doesn’t seem like such a hurdle to cross anymore. Oikawa’s being  _ playful _ ; truthful, but playful, and Iwaizumi can deal with a playful Oikawa. He’s been dealing with a playful Oikawa since he was three.

 

He lets his hands settle on Oikawa’s hips and pulls him in closer, tilts his head up and leans in close enough that their lips are almost touching, and Iwaizumi smirks, lips curling up at one corner and Oikawa’s eyes dart down.

 

“Do  _ you _ want to go out with me?” He parrots, even as he knows it’s a stupid question because Iwaizumi is as oblivious as a rock but once he gets going, he  _ gets going _ and it’s now amazingly obvious that they’ve been dancing around each other like some salsa-wannabe newbies who keep tripping over their feet and can’t turn properly. It’s blatantly obvious that yes, the two of them are going to get together, and that ‘getting together’ is happening  _ now _ .

 

Oikawa grins, bright and deliriously happy and there’s a towel - no, there are  _ multiple _ towels being thrown at them with groans and catcalls around the locker room. 

 

“Get some!” A senpai yells, and Iwaizumi laughs, leaning back against the wall and sliding down to sit on the ground, dragging Oikawa with him. Oikawa is laughing as well, sprawled across his lap, and there are at least three towels draped over them.

 

“Pay up, pay up.” Hanamaki is going around the locker room, gathering money and giving it out and of course, Iwaizumi isn’t even surprised that they bet on their relationship; the whole team bet on their relationship and Iwaizumi can’t find it in him to remotely  _ care _ . 

 

Oikawa leans in quickly and presses a kiss to his lips, holding it there for a few seconds before pulling back, the whole event hidden by the towels on their heads.

 

“Iwa-chan,” he says with immense satisfaction, like the cat that got the cream, and Iwaizumi smiles in return.

 

“Tooru,” he murmurs quietly, and Oikawa lights up.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)


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